


To monarchize, be fear'd & kill with looks

by havisham



Series: havisham's SASO 2017 works collection [26]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: (no), Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Dubious Consent, M/M, teikou is a magical boarding school but could akashi actually be a squib
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 07:56:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11249442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/pseuds/havisham
Summary: The death of kings recounted.





	To monarchize, be fear'd & kill with looks

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SASO 2017, Bonus Round 2: Tic-Tac-Toe, for the [prompt:](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/22249.html?thread=11661545#cmt11661545) _Akashi/Aomine, abuse of authority._

As with everything, Aomine bloomed first. Akashi watched him as his power grew and grew and soon outstripped the confines of their lessons, blue lightning streaked through the halls, setting fire to some of the girls’ hair. Aomine’s wild magic was dangerous and barely controlled. But he was so powerful that the rumors of his abilities reached even Akashi’s father, who immediately fired off a missive to his son. 

_How is it_ , Akashi’s father asked, _that a nobody, with no blood and no family, can outstrip a boy with both? Are you not my son, after all? Have you no magic within you to which you can fight such a monster?_

Akashi read his father’s letter again and again. He felt such fury that he thought that if his father was standing in front of him, he would strike him down, damn the consequences. But instead, he took a day to compose himself. 

_My dear father_ , he wrote, _surely you must know power is only as good as those who would wield it. Aomine is my friend. I do not envy him. I only seek to guide him._

 _Weak_ , would be his father’s reply. 

But then again, his father had always lacked imagination. 

*

There was another incident -- someone was badly hurt, this time -- and Aomine was confined to his rooms. He sulked there, anger coalescing around him like a storm cloud. Those who had classes in that wing of the school complained of low pressure, of their ears popping as if they were rushing down a side of a steep hill. 

Akashi bid his time and finally, on the night of the fourth day, he crept into Aomine’s room. The doors unlocked for him -- all doors did -- and he strode in. Aomine was curled up in bed, surrounded trays filled with half-eaten meals. He looked up when he saw Akashi approach, but his eyes were empty of any kind of recognition. There was only lightening there, barely held in. 

“Daiki,” Akashi said softly. “Look at me. Have you been lonely?” 

“Why are you here,” Aomine ground out. Akashi smiled. 

“You are right to resent them. They’re afraid of your power, of what you can do. Because they are weak and you are strong.” He leaned against Aomine’s desk, aping at carelessness, the heel of his leather shoes balancing on the crack in the floorboards. 

Aomine sneered at him for a moment before he looked away, disinterested. “I don’t care what they think.” 

“If only that was true, you wouldn’t still be here,” Akashi said gently. “You care if you hurt them.” 

“What do you suggest,” Aomine said, “o prince.” 

Akashi laughed. “I think this school has taught us enough. We are ready to be revealed to the world as the miracles that we are.” 

“You want me to help overthrow your father.” 

Akashi tisked in disapproval. “You should not be so blunt.” 

Aomine raised his brow skeptically. 

Akashi leaned down and brushed his lips against Aomine’s forehead, a benediction. 

*

Akashi approached the others in much the same way -- Kise, who wore a thousand faces and kept none, Midorima, with whom the fates confided, Murasakibara, who could move mountains -- and Kuroko, who worked best in the shadows. 

And of course, there was Akashi himself, who had strong leadership skills.

(Or so he modestly disclaimed.) 

*

They won. 

They won and they kept winning. A hundred battles resulted in a hundred victories. Akashi’s father’s forces crumbled against their continued assault on the city. He fled, rather than confront his son. A month later, he was dead. 

Perhaps Akashi had been a bad son after all, he reflected, for he did not mourn his father’s passing at all. 

His friends, he rewarded according to their tastes: Murasakibara set up his fiefdom in the castle kitchens, while Kise held court among the most beautiful in the land. Midorima had the ear of all the soothsayers and they bowed to his predictions. 

Kuroko melted away into the library with a muttered thanks. 

Aomine was given the army and a mission to win glory. 

Find the strongest and defeat them, if he could. 

*

And it was Aomine who turned first. 

“You promised me strong opponents, people who could defeat me, but there is none who can,” he said unhappily, his muscles bunched around his shoulders. There was such strength in those shoulders. Why did Aomine desire defeat so much? Did he not know how unacceptable that was? 

“If you want so badly to be on your knees, I will not stop you,” Akashi said, aware of the cruelty in his voice. He took a hold of Aomine’s chin and lifted it up, forcing him to look. “Will I have to fuck it out of you?” 

Aomine looked at him. His eyes were wild, lightning barely contained. “You are a fool, o king.” 

Akashi laughed and kissed him. The kiss tasted like blood, but it was so sweet. 

He had waited so long. 

*

Aomine clasped his hands around Akashi’s neck, strong and pitiless. How undignified would it be, Akashi thought, as thoughts were fleeing from his head, if it should end like this, being murdered in bed by one of his lovers. He had trusted Aomine, had cherished him as much as he had the rest. More, perhaps. Had he not given Aomine the gift of his body? 

And this was how he repaid him? Love with betrayal? Favor with death? 

Aomine’s breathing was harsh, his hair was ragged and covered his face. He had not liked his time in the dungeons, it seemed. How had he gotten out when his cell had been designed specially to hold him? Perhaps Kuroko had helped him. Yes, Kuroko, whose loyalties were not to be trusted. 

Aomine squeezed harder and Akashi sighed, having had enough. “Let go,” he said, with a note of command in his voice. Aomine, looking bewildered, did so. Akashi sat up and dusted himself off. “Walk towards the door.” 

Stiffly, as if he wanted to resist every step, Aomine did what he was bid. 

“Now turn and get on your knees,” Akashi said. “Crawl towards me.” 

There was such a look of horror in Aomine’s eyes when he reached him that Akashi had to laugh. 

“Stupid Daiki, darling Daiki, didn’t you know? I could always defeat you. The one you longed for was me.” He bent down and kissed him. This kiss tasted like salt, but Akashi was satisfied. 

*

It was only fate, Midorima would say, that the evil emperor was defeated and that a pure-hearted youth would replace him. But still, Akashi laughed at the overgrown foreign boy Kuroko had found somewhere who had done it, driving a spear into his gut. 

“Beware those who work in the background,” he said, though no one understood him. The boy looked at him curiously, lumps of wax still in his ears. Akashi ignored him and looked to Kuroko. “What about him? Does he still live?” 

Kuroko looked at him with pity in his eyes. “Rest, my king.” 

“How can I rest…” 

**Author's Note:**

> Title & summary from/referencing Richard II -- the best bad monarch of all!
> 
> See artwork for this work by dw user fickle [here](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/24968.html?thread=15656584#cmt15656584)
> 
> Read the remix for this work by dw user hatchbacks [here](http://saso-afterhours.dreamwidth.org/86478.html).


End file.
